Gund
by Mattycakes
Summary: Short story about Lieutenant Johnson, and how easily an impression you can make upon one life


Summary: Short story about Lieutenant Johnson, and how easily an impression you can make upon one life.  
  
Disclaimer: Hahah, if I owned anything do you think I'd be sitting here? NO! I'd be drinking my champaigne, sittin' in the indoor pool with my diamond tiara on.... with the widescreen TV, playing a brand new copy of Lilo and Stitch...  
  
Notes: I wrote this story about a month ago, but even now it seems even more fitting. There is a paramedic team of "Amy" and "Charlie" The names stand for Amy Carlson, and Charlie Foubert. He was a real person, and passed way recently. Alex, was really his favorite character, but though the name Alex might get a little confusing... implying perhaps the real Alex was there. Which, she's not.  
  
Dedication: To my dearest angel, Charlie.... now, give me strength while I sweat bullets in a nervous frenzy.... .  
  
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Lighting his cigarette shakily, a man in his car took a slow breath of addictive poison. It was a wonder it didn't catch fire, from the amount of alcohol he'd just in taken.  
  
Once satisfied, he got out - pausing once to steady his balance. The keys to his house slipped in and out of grasp, though he couldn't fathom why. It took more effort than usual to get in the key hole, too.  
  
Looking left and right, he frowned. He was inside the house, but no one was around. How late had he been out tonight? What time was it now? No matter, he decided, dropping his things on the floor without thought. He'd just go to bed.  
  
He walked right through the living room where an ash tray sat, ignored the kitchen. The bathroom. The backyard. Simply walked down the hallway to the bedroom, not noticing when the cigarette had toppled from its perch onto the carpet. He crawled into bed, muttering, and went out like a light.  
  
The burning embers did not.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Joan's nose wrinkled while she slept, interrupting her dreams and inventing new ones. At first, it was a kind and plain dream. One where her family sat in the living room and played with one another, and laughter filled the air in musical pitches. Then, it twisted into morning time. she was late for work, the kids' bus was about to leave without them, and the toast was burning.  
  
No.  
  
She frowned and turned to her other side uncomfortably. It wasn't a toast smell. Her dreams switched again, to the fireplace burning at night. No, that wasn't it either.  
  
Instantly, her eyes flashed open, fully alert as she sat straight up in bed.  
  
Smoke.  
  
Joan shook her husband's shoulder. "There's a fire in the house." She said quickly, wasting no time as she leapt out of the covers. He would get up.  
  
Barefooted and in her silk nightgown, Joan opened her door the rest of the way and shielded her eyes. Flames had enveloped the end of the hallway, blinding her from the darkness she'd previously been in and frightening her to the Motherly core.  
  
Fire! Fire? Oh, when was the last time she'd checked the fire alarms? Too long. And how had this started? Her husband smoked, but he always put it out. why the hallway? All these questions raced through her mind in milliseconds. But milliseconds was all she waited, before awakening her loved ones.  
  
"Jenny, get up!" She yelled, pounding on each door and opening them. "Denise! Joseph! Matthew! Fire!"  
  
Her oldest son woke first, rubbing his eyes sleepily until he saw why she was panicked.  
  
"What happened?" He yelled over the crackle.  
  
"I don't know! Take the kids to the neighbors, call for help."  
  
Matthew nodded, grabbing Jenny's hand as she stumbled out. "What about you?"  
  
"I'll be right behind you." She promised.  
  
Denise screamed and hugged her younger brother tightly, as the flames reflected in her watery eyes. "Mommy!"  
  
"Go with Matthew," She ordered, as he scooped the children up. With one child on his hip and holding hands with the other two, he lead the children out of sight from the fiery blaze with his mother.  
  
"I'll be right with you," She said, suddenly splitting off from them.  
  
"I can't leave you here!" He cried.  
  
"I'm not leaving your brother behind either," She said furiously, fire extinguisher in hand as she returned. "Go."  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Flinching from the heat as she ran into the hall, Joan realized it was simply too late. That would not deter a Mother's ambitions though. Even if she cleared herself a path, she would be fine.  
  
Shooting the white foam over the carpet and attempting to fight her way through, the smoke began to attack her lungs. A band of tightness abruptly grew across her chest, ever expanding with every breath. Each one growing shorter in length than the last.  
  
Joan could see through the hot lights that the door at the end of the hall was in fact NOT open. So it was a consolation of some sort. Her heart would break if she saw her son on the other side, wrenched with fear and crying. Even the thought o made her press harder. And she knew she would kill herself trying if she had to, running through the fire. But she also knew she would do it in a heartbeat.  
  
Openly wheezing, she began to cough. Cough with such ferocity, she doubled over and dropped the fire hydrant. But she persisted. Joan would crawl if she had to, she refused to turn around and leave her baby behind.  
  
Her fingers were growing weak as she held the handle down, and her accuracy had diminished to little at all. She was no closer than when she'd started, and the extinguisher was sounding low. Her head was pounding, her eyes watering. Both emotionally and irritation from the smoke. This had to be a nightmare, surely. she would wake up any moment now, merely suffocating in the sheets of her cool bed. Not be here, sweating from the heat of the fire or having her son trapped behind this inferno. Her breath practically gone, she collapsed down to all fours in defeat. Her lungs couldn't fill fast enough, or exhale for that matter. What was she going to do? Wheeze the fire out? Quite simply, that's all the energy she had to do.  
  
But leaving was not an option.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
"Mom? Mom!" Matthew shouted, dropping to the floor next to his mother. She was laying flat, looking at the bedroom door behind the fire.  
  
"Mom," He said sternly, to get her attention. Picking her up under her arms, he tried to get her to stand.  
  
"I can't-leave." She gasped.  
  
"You don't have a choice, Mom." He said, leaning her on a shoulder and helping her walk away. "I left the kids next door, the firemen are on their way."  
  
"But-my baby-"  
  
"They'll get him. Concentrate on breathing." He knew there was an emergency inhaler somewhere in the living room, but it could only go so far. He'd never seen her asthma this bad.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Coughing in her sleep, her 'baby' began to wake up. Things smelled funny, and he didn't like it.  
  
Tossing and turning with discomfort, he got tangled in his covers and fell onto the floor with a hard thump. Dazed, confused, but waking up more, he rubbed his eyes and looked around. Everything looked normal.but it was so hard to tell in the dark.  
  
The funny smell made his throat tickle, so he got up and fixed his pajamas, toddling over toward the door. A light from underneath spread out, giving it's entire frame an outer glow. Perhaps his eyes were playing tricks on him, like when he saw monsters, but he was sure the door had strange dark patches in the woodwork.  
  
He was going to get a glass of water, but stopped a foot away from the wooden barrier. Though with only six years life experience, the little boy hesitated. It felt warm there. Too warm.  
  
Wiggling his toes on the floor, he realized there wasn't he usual cold draft he experienced. He looked down, momentarily proud he hadn't worn footie pajamas. Extending a cautious hand to the door, he touched it and drew back.  
  
"Hot."  
  
His need for a glass of water remained, but he instead crawled back into bed and tried to go back to sleep.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
"Doesn't look too bad," Suarez commented, noticing the smoke but lack of visual fire as they pulled up. Their truck slowed on the curb, as did the following ambulance.  
  
Lieutenant Suarez ordered his men to each duty, grabbing a shoulder that tried to run past.  
  
"Johnson."  
  
"Yeah? Sir?" Adding the last word quickly.  
  
"Now listen to me... no dramatics this time."  
  
Johnson laughed and rolled his eyes.  
  
"I mean it. You. Be. Careful."  
  
"Come on, it's me we're talking about here," He grinned, starting off.  
  
Amy jumped out of the bus, carrying her bags and kneeling over next to Joan. "Asthma?" "Bad." Matthew said tersely.  
  
"Charlie!" She hollered to her partner. "Get the nebulizer."  
  
As he answered various medical questions from the paramedic, Matthew's eyes caught sight of Suarez. Joan tried to get up, following his vision and pushing away the deceive. Matthew set her back down, jumping up and running to the lieutenant.  
  
"Sir, please-"  
  
"Is this where you live?"  
  
"It's our house, yes." He said, taking a breath to continue.  
  
"Everyone's accounted for?"  
  
"That's what I wanted to tell you, my brother's room is behind the fire."  
  
Suarez looked at the young man hard, hoping it was not what he thought. "He's still in there?"  
  
"Yes sir."  
  
The lieutenant tugged on Matthew's shoulder to follow as he ran to inform the others. "How old is he?"  
  
"Six and a half,"  
  
"Any easy access, like windows or multiple entryways."  
  
"No, just the one door."  
  
"Alright, listen up!" Suarez yelled to his men, clapping his hands for emphasis. "We've got a six year old trapped inside, the only way in is covered in fire. I want an ax man to knock down a wall as quickly as possible. Lets move!"  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Joan pushed away the nebulizer again, looking around wide eyed.  
  
"Ma'm, you have to breathe in with this."  
  
"But-"  
  
"Put this back over your mouth." Amy insisted, only to be pushed away again.  
  
"I can't see my husband."  
  
"I'm sure he's here somewhere."  
  
"But-"  
  
"Calm down, the firemen will take care of everything. Just breathe."  
  
Joan nodded briskly, but continued to look around rapidly for any sign of him.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
With a deep chesty cough the boy woke up again, eyes burning. He rolled over, eyes growing to the size of dinner plates as the sight of flames overcoming his room hit his vision. Screams of fright escaped from this throat, only to be quashed by the tight, dry, and burning sensation that came with it. All he could do was burrow into his covers and cry, cleaning off the soot in little streams down his cheeks.  
  
It was so hot.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Johnson ran through the house, ax in hand as he avoided the fire and went around to the other side.  
  
"This is it?" He asked his accompaniment, Foley.  
  
"Yep."  
  
"Okie dokie," He said, pushing away a desk and pulling back his arm. Swiftly pummeling the wall with his ax, slowly chinking a hole through it. As the wall crumbled down to his thick boots, he saw a small opening form. Once wide enough for eyesight, he slowed and looked in.  
  
"I can see him!"  
  
With a newfound adrenaline rush, he pulled back and started up again, breaking entire chunks of the wall at once and pulling his ax back out. The powder blue wallpaper shredded to pieces quickly, leaving dry wall behind it in ugly clumps.  
  
"The fire spread already," Foley said, bending down and looking in. "We'll need a hose."  
  
"Yep." Johnson agreed, kicking away another piece of wall from his boots. He looked grimly at the fire, impatient for water.  
  
"That should do it." He said, pausing to lift his visor and wipe sweat off his forehead.  
  
"What do you mean? That's barely enough room for anybody."  
  
"Just enough for me." He winked. "Scoop and run."  
  
"Francis!"  
  
Not waiting for any lectures, he dashed into the hole and steered himself away from the fire.  
  
"Hey, hey," He said, waiting the little boy turn from frightened to terrified. "What's his name?"  
  
"Don't know yet,"  
  
Johnson took off his mask and ventured closer. "I'm here to help."  
  
The boy shook his head vigorously and crawled into his bed post.  
  
"I'm a fireman," Johnson explained calmly. "You have to trust me. I can help."  
  
Looking at him with droopy eyes, he neither protested or came closer. Johnson took the opportunity to hook the oxygen over the boy's blackened nostrils and cradle him to his chest.  
  
"Got him!"  
  
Glancing at a boiling fish tank, he dashed out of the place through the hole again and smiled at the others as a firehouse was dragged in.  
  
"See, no trouble."  
  
Foley smiled, but gave him a disapproving look as they walked away, rushing to the outside.  
  
"My toys," The boy mumbled, slipping his mask off and reaching out with one hand to his disappearing room.  
  
"Don't worry about it. Let's go see your family, huh?"  
  
"But."  
  
"Hey, do you like playing doctor?"  
  
"Noooooo." The child whined.  
  
"It's fun! When we get outside, that's what we're going to play. Some people will check out your heart, and listen to your lungs."  
  
"Do I have to have a shot?" He asked, following a barky cough.  
  
"We'll see. I think it's going to be fun, don't you?"  
  
"Not shots."  
  
"No, not shots." Johnson agreed, chuckling. "Now put your air mask back on."  
  
"Okay," He sighed, looking solemn as his thoughts turned back to his toys. As he began to relax, the tiredness caught up. Slowly, he rested his head on the firefighter's shoulder while they walked out.  
  
"Hey, Tommy?"  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Can you get me one of those Gund thingies?"  
  
"Sure,"  
  
"Thanks. Hey look! I think that's your brother waiting for you." Johnson pointed out, as they hit the doorway and emerged from the house.  
  
"Matthew?" Sure enough, there he was being held back on the lawn.  
  
"And there's your Mom."  
  
"Mom!"  
  
Joan whipped her head around, breaking down in joyous tears as the sight of her son.  
  
Johnson smiled, pride in every step as he quickened pace and slipped the child into his mothers arms. Standing back, he watched happily as the two nearly hugged each other to death. It was moments like these that made his job so fulfilling and irreplaceable. Giving families that relief. Beaming with pure delight at the scene before him, he didn't hear anyone approach from behind.  
  
"You're going to give me a heart attack one of these days." Suarez muttered.  
  
"Naaah, maybe just a few gray hairs." Johnson smirked, giving his boss' salt 'n pepper moustache a tug.  
  
"Someday," Suarez warned, poking him in the chest. "You'll meet someone just like yourself and hate it."  
  
"Does that mean you were a wild child too?"  
  
"And he'll have your smart mouth too." The lieutenant grunted. "Someday." Johnson opened his mouth for a comeback just as a commotion started. "Medic!"  
  
Suarez looked over at the house quick as a snake, taking in the scene and running away to find out more. Leaving Johnson to face two worried sets of eyes. He honestly didn't know what to tell them.  
  
"Stay here," Joan told her son, standing up and following the pair of paramedics as they ran into the house with a backboard and gurney. Matthew sat down, suspecting the same as she did. All he could do was pat his brother's back.  
  
"Here you go," Foley said, handing Johnson the bear he'd retrieved.  
  
"Ah! Thanks." He said appreciatively, kneeling down. "Now this, this is a special teddy bear for you."  
  
Eyes brightening, the little boy smiled. "Why's he special?"  
  
"Well, only very brave boys like you get to have ones."  
  
"You were brave?" Matthew join in, smiling his best and trying to look proud.  
  
"Oh, yes he was. He wasn't afraid at all, was he Teddy?" Johnson continued, shaking the bear's head no. "Here."  
  
Taking the soft cuddly toy, the child smiled and whispered into its ear. "Maybe a little."  
  
"Now, Teddy. I want you to take good care of this boy. He's special." He was also licking up every single word. "I see good things in his future."  
  
Matthew's eyes caught sight of the gurney being rolled out of the house, and his Mother right along side it, weeping. Ever alert, his brother picked up on it too. Johnson turned around, looking grim as he saw the CPR being performed on the father. They were going to rush him to the hospital, unknowing it would all be for nothing.  
  
"Don't look," He told the boy, turning his head away from the sight. "What are you going to name this bear?"  
  
He shrugged, poking at the glass eyes. "Gund."  
  
"Gund?"  
  
"That's what it says." He replied, pointing to the plastic tag.  
  
"That's just the brand-" Johnson stopped himself. Whatever suited the boy, worked.  
  
"I like it."  
  
"Thanks," He said, touching the furry nose. He was clearly already enamored with the toy.  
  
"I never did find out," Johnson said curiously. "What was your name?"  
  
Smiling brightly, and with twinkling eyes the little boy looked up at him with unending love and care.  
  
"Steven. . . Steven?"  
  
"Yeah?" Gusler said suddenly, coming back to the present. Nurse Proctor pointed down the hallway for him.  
  
"You can go see him now."  
  
"Thanks." He smiled, picking up his bag and slowly walking that way. His shoes echoed slightly in the empty space, making him more nervous than it should. Or maybe he was just plain getting nervous.  
  
Turning the handle gradually, he opened the door and stepped in, finding himself immediately immersed in flowers and gifts. The beauty and spender only gave contrast to the patient, whose burns still remained vivid on his face.  
  
"Hi," Gusler said awkwardly, helping himself to a seat next to the lieutenant. He put his hands in his lap and looked around, trying to find the nerve to speak again. "You probably don't remember me."  
  
"I know you," Johnson said, vaguely confused. "A couple days before my last day of work, you-"  
  
Gusler waved a hand and smiled. "No, not that."  
  
Thinking hard, Johnson frowned. Maybe this was the wrong room he'd come to. Or maybe he wasn't recognizing the right person.  
  
"Long, long ago," Gusler said, a familiar twinkle in his eye appearing. "There was a fire. You saved a little boy, and gave him this."  
  
Pulling out what could only be called a 'well loved toy', he reached into the bag and revealed the teddy bear. Gund took a familiar place on his knees, as he wiggled the arms around and swayed it from side to side. Taking his time, and thinking it through, Gusler waited a short period of time until he spoke again.  
  
"I'm not much of a talker really," He confessed sheepishly, looking at the toy. "It's just not every day you get the chance to meet your hero again."  
  
Johnson sat speechless, as the memory slowly unfolded in his mind. It had been so long ago. what. twenty years now? And that same little boy now sat before him, still playing with the teddy bear.  
  
"He really got me through some tough times," Gusler said, lifting it up and facing it toward himself. Absently, he picked a few fuzz balls off of the nose and flushed when he looked back at Johnson. "I just wanted to really meet you again."  
  
"Little Steve," Johnson said quietly, a smile forming on his lips. "Brave little Steve."  
  
Gusler smiled and blushed again, quickly looking down at the bear while he spoke. "He's not so brave these days."  
  
Johnson tilted his head, curious as to what he meant. But he thought no more on it, pleased to see one of his former patients from so long ago. What had brought him here now? Why not before, or later? Either way, it was blissful to see how the little one had grown up.  
  
"Anyway," Gusler said, clearing his throat finally. "I didn't want to stay long. I just wanted to give you something, too."  
  
Reaching into the bag a second time, he pulled out an almost identical bear and passed it to Johnson. This one less 'loved'. Brand new.  
  
"It's not really much," Gusler said, looking around at the expensive flowers and gifts practically covering the whole room. "But for a little six year old, it did wonders."  
  
Johnson looked at the bear, tears welling in his eyes as he stroked the soft, cuddly fur and smiled. "No. this is better than anything money can buy." 


End file.
